


One Absolutely Beautiful Thing

by carnovalesque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Next-Gen, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnovalesque/pseuds/carnovalesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At age eleven, Dudley's daughter receives a letter he recognizes very well. As Sinead Dursley embarks on her journey of magical education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she strikes up a strange friendship with Lorcan Scamandar. Soon, Lorcan and Sinead rule over a reign of terror at Hogwarts as they subject their fellow students to cruel and dangerous pranks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which An Owl Flies

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the smallest room in a modest, two-story country house. The inhabitant of this room squinted as the rays pierced her eyes, waking her up better than any alarm clock ever could. She shuffled out of bed, put on her bunny slippers, and listened. Unsurprisingly, all was silent. Sinead Dursley was always the first to wake up in the house, summer break or not. She liked it better that way; she could take her time in the bathroom.  
  
After washing up, Sinead went downstairs and began watching television in the living room. She was hungry, but she knew what her mother would say if she went near the stove without supervision. She had half a mind to wake up her brother, Cillian, but decided against it. He was never an early riser, and waking him up would only give him cause to throw a pillow at her. An hour later, at about seven o'clock, Sinead could hear the tell-tale sounds that meant her mother had woken up. Predictably, Sinead's father would rise about half an hour later, when the smell of bacon wafted upstairs.  
  
"Good morning, Sinead," said Mrs. Dursley, stretching as she came into the living room. Mrs. Dursley was the image of her daughter: pale and skinny, with wavy brown hair and light brown eyes to match.  
  
"Morning, Mum." Sinead quickly turned off the television and followed her mother into the kitchen. She set the table for three, as it wasn't likely Cillian would be up before noon. As soon as that was done, Sinead sat down and looked at her mother expectantly. Mrs. Dursley chuckled and slid two slices of bacon out of the frying pan and onto Sinead's plate.  
  
"We really should wait for your father, you know," said Mrs. Dursley as she handed her daughter toast.  
  
Sinead shrugged, mouth too full of salty bacon to respond. Her father would be down any minute, anyway, and he never minded when they started eating without him – and certainly, if it had been him at the table first, he would not have given a moment's thought to waiting for anyone else. Sure enough, five minutes later, Dudley Dursley was striding into the kitchen, blonde hair slicked back, dressed in a prim suit and ready for work.  
  
"Hullo, Sinead. How's your mother's bacon today?" Mr. Dursley asked jokingly, as he did every morning. And, as she did every morning, Sinead smiled and said, "Delicious."  
  
"Elaine, dear, did you get the mail yet?" said Mr. Dursley as he prepared his plate.  
  
Mrs. Dursley shook her head, now putting bacon onto Mr. Dursley's plate. "Not yet, no."  
  
"I told Jack, I told him if my paycheck wasn't in by today, he'd have me to answer to. Damn thing's almost a week late." Mr. Dursley stabbed his bacon with a kind of venom and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing aggressively.  
  
"Would you like me to get it, Daddy?" Sinead asked after taking her last gulp of orange juice.  
  
"Hmm? Oh, yes, go on, then," replied Mr. Dursley, completely focused on his food.  
Sinead found herself giggling as she slid out of her chair and into the hallway, deliberately neglecting her slippers. Her father's desire to view the mail had not incited her as much as the knowledge of fresh air had. Sinead loved July mornings; the air was crisp and cool and very refreshing to inhale. After opening the front door, Sinead promptly ignored the stack of papers on the doorstep and jumped across, landing barefoot on moist grass. The cold, dew-covered plants tickled her toes playfully, and she spun around once before going back inside with the mail.  
  
Sinead flipped through the envelopes with a cavalier attitude, as she really had nothing to do with her parents' bills and paychecks. However, a letter with her name on it startled her, and she did a double-take. She examined the letter carefully as she walked into the kitchen and placed the wad of envelopes on the table. Her mother was standing at the sink, her back to Sinead, and her father had only given the mail a cursory glance before going back to his breakfast. It was a thick, yellowish letter, sealed with a purple wax stamp depicting a coat of arms: a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake wrapped around an ornate letter 'H.' Sinead’s forehead crinkled. It was the oddest letter she'd ever seen. Her fingers worked fast as she ripped it open and removed the letter inside. Under a heading of "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the letter said:  
  
 _Dear Ms. Dursley,  
  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.  
  
Yours Sincerely,  
Filius Flitwick  
Deputy Headmaster _  
  
Eyebrows disappearing beneath her straight-as-a-fence bangs, Sinead began reading the other piece of paper, which listed various required materials like a wand, a set of black robes, and a pewter cauldron. It was so strange. Who did Sinead know with the energy and imagination to pull off such an elaborate joke? Nevertheless, she appreciated it for what it was, and laughed quietly to herself.  
  
"Mum?" Sinead's mother had finally seated herself down and begun eating.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Listen to this funny letter I got." Sinead began reading. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and-" Sinead stopped, for Mr. Dursley had dropped his fork on the floor with a loud _clang_ that reverberated in the tiny kitchen. His face was slowly turning blue, and Mrs. Dursley realized he'd choked on his food. Quick as lightning, she handed him her nearly-full glass of orange juice and thumped him on the back after he took a huge swig.  
  
"Dudley? Are you all right?" asked Mrs. Dursley, concern evident in every contour on her face. "I've told you before - you really must chew more slowly."  
  
"Let me see that letter!" Mr. Dursley gasped, in a hoarse voice.  
  
"What, this?" Sinead started to hand it to her father, but before she could even lift her arm he'd snatched it out of her hands, his small blue eyes scanning every inch of it.  
  
"It's probably someone's idea of a joke," said Mrs. Dursley, shaking her head with a smile. "What's the return address, Sinead?"  
  
"There wasn't one," said Sinead, realizing. She hadn't considered how unusual it was.  
  
"An anonymous prankster, eh?" Mrs. Dursley was still chuckling. "Well-"  
  
"It's not a joke," said Mr. Dursley quietly.  
  
"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Dursley, her eyebrows raised in surprise.  
  
"What do you mean, it's not a joke?" Sinead pressed. She'd never seen her father look so worried, weary and resigned all at once. "It can't be anything other than a joke, can it?"  
  
Mr. Dursley licked his lips, sighed, and looked up at Sinead. On his face was the most serious expression she had ever seen.  
  
"No, Sinead. It's -" But before Mr. Dursley could get another word in, the doorbell rang, and surprise registered on every single face in the kitchen, all three wondering who could possibly be calling this early in the morning.


	2. In Which a Doorbell Rings

Morgana Penrose stood apprehensively at the Muggles’ door. She glanced down at her feet nervously, noticing that her boots had dragged along the wet grass and muck. She wondered if she should remove them before she stepped into the house. It might just be easier to perform a quick spell; _Scourgify_ should clean them up efficiently. She plunged her left hand into her robes, but reconsidered. Perhaps she should wait until the Muggles came to the door. Then it could serve as a demonstration for them – and if they were anything like the previous family she’d encountered, she’d have to perform at least five spells to convince them. It amazed her how one could remain skeptical of magic after seeing a footrest spontaneously transform into a pig and back again.   
  
The man who opened the door for her was rather heavyset, Morgana thought, although that might have just been his muscles; he looked like a wrestler well past his prime. She knew his name to be Dudley Dursley. She took a deep breath and said, “Hello, I’m-”   
  
“Yes, I know,” he said wearily, opening the door further. “You’re from that school, aren’t you?”  
  
Morgana was taken aback; she’d visited six Muggle families so far, and not a single one had treated the Hogwarts letter as something _serious_. Most had laughed it off and were utterly bemused to find her at their doorstep. “I’m from Hogwarts, yes.”   
  
He sighed. “Why don’t you come in?”   
  
Pleased, feeling that this was a good family to end the week with, Morgana confidently strode forward and, as she did so, took out her wand and cleaned her boots. Mr. Dursley didn’t say a word, but stared apprehensively at her wand with attentive blue eyes. He led her into what Morgana assumed was the sitting room, for it contained a couch and two armchairs, all facing a television set. A lush mahogany-colored carpet was in the center of the furniture, making the room appear very warm despite the plain white walls.   
  
Mr. Dursley left her sitting on one of the beige armchairs and came back with two females, whom Morgana assumed were his wife and magical child. All three sat on the couch, facing Morgana. She cleared her throat.  
  
“So, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, this must be Sinead. Am I correct?” said Morgana, smiling at the shy-looking girl seated between her parents. Sinead nodded, and her mother said, “Yes.”   
  
“My name is Morgana Penrose. Judging by your greeting, Mr. Dursley, I must assume that either you are an incredibly open-minded Muggle or that, somehow, you know about Hogwarts already.” Morgana waited patiently for him to form an answer.  
  
“Yes. I know about your school,” he said finally. Morgana saw his wife give him a sideways glance, her expression carefully disbelieving. “My cousin is a…a wizard.”   
  
Morgana nodded. She had expected something like this the moment she’d seen Mr. Dursley’s initial reaction to her. What irritated her was that Professor Flitwick hadn’t thought to mention that this family was related to wizardry. Her voice betraying no annoyance, she asked, “Who is your cousin? Perhaps I know him.”   
  
“Harry Potter,” said Mr. Dursley with a grimace.   
  
It was as if he’d expected that Morgana’s eyebrows would fly as high as they did. So…not only had Professor Flitwick neglected to mention that the Dursleys were related to wizards, but he’d conveniently skipped over the fact that a new student’s Muggle father happened to be Harry Potter’s cousin. How could one possibly forget to mention that?   
  
But Morgana was not the only one to receive a jolt. At Mr. Dursley’s words, both Mrs. Dursley and Sinead had looked to him with open amazement. He was pointedly looking anywhere but in their direction.  
  
“You’re telling me that Harry Potter,” said Mrs. Dursley, looking from her husband to Morgana, “Harry Potter, whom we had over for dinner a few months ago, is a _wizard_?”   
  
“Probably the most famous wizard in our world, actually,” said Morgana as she straightened her robes. “I expect your daughter will learn all about him at Hogwarts – I teach a few lessons on Harry Potter toward the end of the second term.”  
  
Sinead finally spoke. “You’re a teacher?”   
  
“Yes, I teach History of Magic.” Morgana did not mention the fact that she had been very recently appointed. The decision to let Professor Binns go had finally been made just as Morgana had decided to apply for a teaching post. Both History of Magic and Herbology had been her best and favorite subjects when she’d attended school, but she’d much rather teach the tame discipline of History of Magic than walk around covered in soil all the time. Besides, there was no need for anyone to seek out the position of Herbology Professor as long as Neville Longbottom was teaching.  
  
“So, am I to assume that you’re willing to let Sinead attend Hogwarts?” asked Morgana with a glance at Mrs. Dursley. The woman was sitting with her hands folded in her lap and her ankles crossed, her angry, accusing gaze directed at her husband. Mrs. Dursley appeared to be a very neat, meticulous woman. It was obvious not only by her clean, unwrinkled morning attire, but by the state of her quaint little home: not a speck of dust was out of place. Morgana could only imagine what this revelation was doing to her tidy, organized life.   
  
Mr. Dursley looked down at his daughter, who had been gazing at Morgana intensely. “Harry enjoyed it,” said Mr. Dursley, speaking only to Sinead. “I mean, if you’re really like him, Sinead, and you want to go to this school…” He heaved a heavy sigh and pursed his lips, as though what he was about to say went against everything he believed. “I won’t stop you.”  
  
“Hang on a minute,” said Mrs. Dursley. “This is ridiculous! What…how would _you_ know that my daughter is a...” Here, Mrs. Dursley paused.  
  
“A witch?” said Morgana coolly. “At Hogwarts there is a magical quill that records the names of every witch and wizard born – your daughter’s name was on the list.”   
  
“But how can you be sure?” said Sinead quietly. “What if I’m not, really? What if this quill made a mistake?”   
  
Morgana sighed. Parents’ reactions to finding out their children were magical varied, but the child’s was almost always the same: how do you know for sure?  
  
“The quill doesn’t make mistakes,” said Morgana, smiling reassuringly. “Sinead, I want you to think for a moment. Have you ever made anything happen without meaning to? Have you ever done something strange, and had no way of explaining how you’d done it?”  
  
Sinead stared at her lap, deep in thought. When she looked up, she appeared stricken.   
  
“No,” she said. “I can’t remember anything like that.”   
  
Morgana frowned internally, but only said kindly, “Well, you probably just don’t remember. What about your parents?” Morgana looked at the pair. “Do you recall anything unusual happening around Sinead? Perhaps when she was angry or overexcited?”  
  
It was Mrs. Dursley who spoke. “Nothing at all. She’s always been very well-behaved, quiet. I can’t remember the last time Sinead was angry!”  
  
 _There’s your answer,_ thought Morgana. “Well, regardless, I assure you, the quill doesn’t make mistakes. Sinead _is_ a witch.”  
  
Sinead Dursley was wringing her hands, in the clutches of deep thought. Then, she glanced at her father.   
  
“Daddy,” she said softly, and nodded. Mr. Dursley looked at Morgana, who had leaned into the sofa and crossed her legs to watch her last family of the week make its decision.


	3. In Which a Door Slams

After Penrose left, there was nothing and no one to shield Dudley Dursley from the accusing stares of his wife. He was only too aware that she would bombard him with questions the moment she gathered her wits, and he had no intention of letting her do that before he made a certain phone call.  
  
Dudley picked up the receiver and dialed. The phone rang five times before someone on the other line picked up.   
  
“Hello?” a female voice said.  
  
Dudley hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, “Hello, Ginny. This is Dudley. Dudley Dursley.”   
  
“Oh, hello Dudley! How are you?”   
  
“Fine.”  
  
“And Elaine and the kids?”  
  
“They’re…all right. Listen, is Harry there?”   
  
“Yes, just a moment.” Ambient noise blared into Dudley’s ear when Ginny put down the receiver. He suspected Harry and Ginny might be entertaining some guests. He could distinctly hear the wail of a child. Finally, Harry picked up the phone.  
  
“Dudley!” said Harry. “How are-”   
  
“Did you know?” Dudley interrupted.   
  
“Did I know what?” Harry sounded utterly bemused.   
  
“About Sinead.”   
  
“What about Sinead?”  
  
“About her being a witch.” Dudley was incredibly proud of himself for not stuttering with the words. Indeed, he felt as though if he kept repeating them clearly and confidently he’d become more convinced of their truth. Despite the unbiased front he was putting on, there was still a miniscule part of him that was horrified his dealings with Harry’s world weren’t over. Dudley was doing an excellent job of pushing that part of himself away.  
  
Harry was silent. Then, “What are you talking about?”  
  
“The letter, Harry,” said Dudley impatiently. “She’s received the same letter you did back then, and a few moments ago a teacher from _that school_ was here to talk to us.”  
  
“Sinead’s…a witch?” Dudley could not see Harry’s face, but his awed voice was enough to convince Dudley of Harry’s ignorance. “Dudley, I…swear, I had no idea, no one told me anything…I mean, I would have said something.”  
  
“Yes,” sighed Dudley. “You know, when Cillian’s eleventh summer passed over, I thought…I thought that was it.”  
  
“It doesn’t work like that, Dudley, you know it doesn’t,” said Harry. “After all, look at our mothers.”  
  
Dudley nodded, but then remembered that Harry couldn’t see him and said hurriedly, “Right.”  
  
“So,” began Harry tentatively. “Are you going to let her go?”   
  
“It’s safe now, right? That nutter who killed your parents is gone?” Dudley twirled the phone cord absent-mindedly.   
  
“Yes, he’s gone,” said Harry slowly.  
  
“And those Dementor things can’t go anywhere near the school, right?”  
  
“No, they can’t,” said Harry. “Besides, the school is protected by loads of enchantments. It’s one of the safest places in the Wizarding World.”   
  
“Then up it’s up to Sinead, isn’t it? If she wants to go, I don’t think I’m going to stop her.”  
  
“That’s great!” Dudley could practically hear the smile in Harry’s voice. “Listen, Dudley, all of us here are heading out to Diagon Alley to buy the kids’ school things. Would you want to come buy Sinead’s as well? I can be there to pick you all up.”  
  
“I-” Dudley pictured calling in sick for work. As he hadn’t missed a single day before, and considering the mix-up with his paycheck, he couldn’t imagine the company being too uptight about Dudley using up one of his sick days. “Yes, all right then. Don’t rush; we’ll need a bit of time to get ready.”  
  
“No problem,” said Harry genially. “How does…an hour sound?”  
  
“Great.” Dudley looked towards the hall; Sinead and Elaine had been listening to his conversation. “I’ll see you then.”  
  
Dudley hung up with trepidation, fully expecting to be hit by a host of questions. As soon as he turned around, Elaine opened her mouth.  
  
“ _How_ can you have forgotten to mention something like this?” she shouted furiously, her Irish accent as prominent as it was the day Dudley had met her in Dublin. “Why would you keep this from us?”  
  
Wearily, Dudley walked over to the sofa and plopped down. He didn’t answer his wife, but instead looked at Sinead. She was standing quietly by the living room door, watching her parents.   
  
“Harry’s going to be here in a bit to take us to buy your things,” said Dudley, staring straight at his daughter and completely ignoring his wife, who had fallen silent. “I assumed you’d like to go. Was I right?”   
  
“Did you see what she did, Ms. Penrose, before she left?” said Sinead in response. “She turned that tissue into a lily, just like that! Daddy, I want to do that.” She looked at him earnestly with her wide, brown eyes.   
  
Dudley smiled at her reassuringly.  
  
“And I don’t get a say in this, is that it?” said Elaine tersely. “My daughter’s going to be shipped off to _Scotland_ , and I can’t refuse?”  
  
“She’ll be safe,” said Dudley. “There’s nothing to hurt her.”  
  
“How do you know that? Are you a wizard in hiding as well?” Elaine snapped.  
  
“No, I’m not. I’m as non-magical as you are,” Dudley replied calmly. “Harry told me the school’s protected and very safe. I wouldn’t worry about that.”   
  
“What about Cillian?” asked Sinead, concern clouding her eyes. “He’s not…like me, is he?”   
  
“No.” Dudley grimaced; he had almost forgotten that there was still Cillian to tell this shocking news to. “If he had been, the school would have made sure we knew about it.”  
  
“You’re sure?” asked Sinead. “It couldn’t have…been lost in the mail or something?”  
  
Dudley smiled, recalling the letters that had chased Harry across the country in his childhood. “I’m sure,” he said. “If Cillian had been magical, this school – Hogwarts – would have made sure he knew.”   
  
“Oh.” For a moment Sinead looked downtrodden. But a moment later she brightened up, a small smile playing on her small lips. “I’m going to do magic, Daddy!”   
  
Dudley laughed. “Yes, you are.” He glanced at Elaine, who was biting her bottom lip and pointedly looking anywhere but at her husband. He sighed. “Elaine. I swear, she’ll be fine. She’ll be here at holidays.”  
  
“Mum, I really want to go!” Sinead put in.  
  
Elaine sighed heavily and looked away, running her hand through her hair. “This is insane!” she exclaimed. “It’s too – I mean – what will her future be like? What kind of job will she have with a degree from a magic school? What about university?”   
  
“Elaine, she’ll work in their world,” said Dudley wearily. “They’ve got their own Ministry and everything. Or she could be a teacher, like that Penrose woman.”   
  
Elaine still stood, shaking her head and muttering. Dudley stood up and placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders. She wouldn’t look at him. Dudley then thought back to his childhood. Images of his parents inundated his mind, and suddenly all he could see was himself, tormenting Harry for being what he couldn’t help. Now he was standing here, almost twenty years later, attempting to convince his wife of what he’d been taught to hate. He almost couldn’t believe it – he wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told him when he was sixteen – but Dudley was relieved he’d grown out of the prejudice his parents had failed to escape.  
  
Dudley turned to Sinead, who was observing them with a look of deep apprehension. “Sinead, dear, go wake Cillian up. Go on.” When he could hear his daughter running up the stairs, Dudley stood up.  
  
“Elaine.” Out of options, Dudley gently cupped his wife’s face and had her meet his gaze. “When I was younger, my parents taught me to hate Harry for what he was. All three of us were horrible to him because he was a wizard…because he could do magic. What none of us seemed to realize at the time was that there was nothing wrong with Harry or magic – we were just scared of what we didn’t know, and that…that fear just took us over. But all that’s over now, and Sinead…She’ll be okay, Elaine. She’ll do fine at this school. I know it.”   
  
“How do you know that?” Elaine pulled Dudley’s hands off her cheeks. Her voice rose with every word. “We’d be sending her away, Dudley. She’d only be here at the holidays, we’d never see her, we’d never know what she’d be up to-”   
  
Suddenly it set in. Dudley understood. This wasn’t about sending Sinead away to a _magical_ boarding school. It was about sending her away at all.   
  
“Honey, they’ve got supervision – you don’t think they’d let a bunch of eleven-year-olds run around at all hours of the night, do you?” Dudley chuckled. “And they’re pretty strict, if I remember – Harry wasn’t even allowed to use magic outside of school. Kept him on a pretty tight leash, that school of his. And you can write to each other, so it’s not like you won’t be hearing from her at all!”  
  
“Are you sure about this?” Elaine’s shoulders had relaxed, and her Irish accent had abated. Dudley smiled and kissed her lightly.   
  
“We’ve got to let her grow up sometime,” said Dudley gently. “If you stop her from going, she’s never going to stop thinking about it for the rest of her life. She’s going to regret it over and over and over again, and so will you. You can’t undo this, Elaine.”   
  
Elaine fell into the sofa and rubbed her forehead. When she looked up at Dudley, her expression was one of resignation mingled with unease. “Okay, Dudley. I’ll let her go.”


	4. In Which a Glass Breaks

The door to Cillian’s room was, as always, shut. Sinead slowly turned the knob and stepped in. Cillian was on his back, tangled in his green comforter. Sinead approached the bed slowly and was about to pull on his long dark hair, but stopped. Instead, she sat on the floor, her back to him.  
  
“I’m a witch,” Sinead whispered to herself. The words sent shivers to the very roots of her hair. Everything that had occurred that morning seemed as though it were happening to a different person. Sinead’s life was normal and ordinary. But this…It seemed impossible that it was happening to her. All she wanted at the moment was for her father to convince her mother, because wanted to go to this school. She wanted to learn magic and turn tissues into lilies, like Morgana Penrose.   
  
Leaning her head back on Cillian’s mattress, Sinead thought back to her first impression of Ms. Penrose: a regal vampire with onyx-black hair, ruby red lips, and cold, unwelcoming green eyes. She wondered if Ms. Penrose knew how intimidating she appeared, with her sharp features and her strict, impassive expressions. Somehow, her kindness had seemed forced, impatient, as though it were all a mask she couldn’t wait to rip off.  
  
Shaking her head, Sinead stood up, wondering if vampires even existed in this new world. Regardless, though, Ms. Penrose was a teacher, which meant Sinead would know someone upon entering this strange new school. With this realization consoling her, Sinead pulled Cillian’s comforter off him in one powerful tug. Being Cillian, he didn’t even flinch.   
  
Impatient and bearing important news, Sinead immediately grabbed the glass of water on Cillian’s nightstand, usually a last resort. As she was about to tip the glass over Cillian’s face, a thought came to her. Ms. Penrose had indicated that Sinead should be able to make things happen. She said that Sinead had magic, and she could have used it before accidentally. Why not make it happen now?   
  
Sinead placed the glass of water back on Cillian’s nightstand, took two steps back, sat on the floor, and stared hard at the glass. She closed her eyes and envisioned the glass tipping over. She opened her eyes. The glass of water stared defiantly back at her, as still as a mountain. The water didn’t even have any ripples. Sinead took a deep breath and stared hard at the glass.   
  
“Come on, tip over,” whispered Sinead, her hands involuntarily becoming fists. “Come on, come on…”   
  
It seemed that even the air had become still.   
  
“Please tip over,” said Sinead, no longer whispering and becoming desperate. “Come _on_ , you stupid glass, tip over already!” With that, Sinead pounded her fists against the ground, and the glass of water tipped over. Not only did the glass tip, but it cracked, and the water seemed to shoot forward instead of spill, with the result that it hit Cillian directly in the face.   
  
He shot up and stared at nothing with shocked blue eyes. Then his stare found Sinead, fists still stuck to the floor.   
  
“How many damn times do I have to tell you not to do that!” Cillian yelled, rolling out of bed. “What the hell, Sinead, it’s not even noon yet! What do you think you’re doing?”  
  
“I did it,” said Sinead, her excitement practically bubbling over her words. “I did it, I made it move!”  
  
“What the hell are you babbling about?” Cillian wiped his face on his comforter. “I’m going back to bed.”  
  
“Cillian-”  
  
“What?” he roared. “Sinead, it’s summertime, which means we get to _sleep in_. So get out!”   
  
“I’m a witch,” Sinead blurted. She smiled, gathering her wits internally. “I got a letter in the mail that said I’m a witch and that I can go to a school to learn magic. Then a woman came, a teacher from that school, and-”  
  
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” said Cillian wearily.   
  
“Please, just come downstairs, Dad will tell you!”   
  
“I’m not going anywhere sleep-deprived.” Cillian made to get back into bed, but Sinead ran forward and latched onto his arm.   
  
“Just come. It’s important. You have to come, now!”   
  
“You’re not going to leave me alone until I do, are you?”   
  
Sinead didn’t answer, only tugged harder. Finally, Cillian dragged himself out of bed and stomped across his bedroom floor.   
  
“All right, what’s got Sinead so worked up?” said Cillian as soon as he and Sinead stepped into the living room, where their parents were sitting on opposite sides of the couch. “She keeps rambling about witches or something.”   
  
Sinead stood by Cillian as he sat down in an armchair. Her parents exchanged a worried glance. Sinead looked at her brother – he was staring expectantly at their parents, bemusement clouding his features. He turned to Sinead and smiled questioningly. “Is something going on? Sinead? Mum? Dad?”   
  
“Your sister’s going to a boarding school in Scotland,” said Mrs. Dursley hesitantly.   
  
Relief flooded Sinead’s body. She smiled widely at her mother, who gave her a tight-lipped smile resembling a grimace in return.  
  
Cillian recoiled. “What the – you’re sending her away? Why?”   
  
“We’re not sending her away,” began Mr. Dursley. “She’s been given an opportunity. Sinead is a witch. She can do magic.”   
  
Cillian burst out laughing. “Mum, I never imagined you as the practical joke type.” He shook his head. “ _This_ is why you wake me up at the crack of dawn? I’m going back to bed.” He stood up and made for the stairs.  
  
“Cillian, it’s not a joke,” said Mr. Dursley roughly. “Nobody’s laughing.”  
  
Sinead picked up the discarded letter, which was lying on the living room table. She handed it to Cillian, who took it slowly and read it. “It’s true. Uncle Harry’s a wizard – he’s going to be here in a bit to help us buy my materials-”  
  
“What? What the hell are you all taking about?” Cillian tossed the letter to the ground and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “You wake me up and then you tell me some cock-and-bull joke you’re trying to pass off as real?”  
  
“Cillian-”  
  
“No, Sinead, I’m going _back to bed_.”   
  
“Cillian, get dressed,” Mr. Dursley shouted over his shoulder. “Harry will be here in a bit, and I think we should all go with him.”  
  
“Go where?” Cillian drowned out his father’s voice. “What the hell are you talking about?”  
  
Sinead readied herself to explain once again to her brother that she was a witch. Although, short of doing magic right in front of him, there was no way to make him believe her. She understood Cillian’s sheer disbelief and confusion. It was the same way she’d felt before she’d witnessed Morgana Penrose take a tissue and turn it into a lily by pointing a wooden stick and whispering a funny word. She tugged on Cillian’s pajamas tentatively, and he glanced down at her. In a gentle voice, she began to explain the situation to him – everything that had happened since she’d woken up. She told him about the letter, about Morgana Penrose, and about Uncle Harry. To their parents’ surprise, he quietly listened.  
  
“You’re pulling my leg, Sinead,” Cillian finally said when Sinead had finished speaking. “This can’t be true. Magic’s not real.”   
  
“She turned a tissue into a lily just like that!” Sinead insisted. “And when you woke up, didn’t you notice I was sitting on the floor when the water splashed you?”   
  
Cillian stared at her in shock, the realization dawning on his face. “Then how-”  
  
Sinead lowered her voice. “I made the cup fall, just by thinking about it really hard.”  
  
Cillian looked ready to say something, but the doorbell interrupted him. Everyone in the living room jumped; then Mr. Dursley stood up, smoothing down his suit and straightening his tie.   
  
Sinead grasped Cillian’s hand as he sank to the lowest stair. She gave him a reassuring smile. He stared back in disbelief as their father left to open the door for who could only be the other magical member of the family, arriving quite a bit earlier than expected.


	5. In Which a Ball Drops

The minute Harry put down the phone, his wife spoke.  
  
“What was that all about?” asked Ginny as Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair. Ginny and Harry’s conversation seemed to be a world apart from all the commotion occurring around them. Not only were James, Albus, and Lily making their usual commotion, but Freddie, Roxanne, Rose, and Hugo were assisting. Ron and Hermione were chatting with George and Angelina, contributing to the already loud racket. Yet, somehow, this clamor seemed to subside when Harry considered the magnitude of a Dursley being a witch.   
  
“You won’t believe it,” said Harry, a smile spreading over his face.   
  
Ginny grinned back, sensing her husband’s thrill. “What?”   
  
“Sinead is a witch!” Harry exclaimed, possibly louder than he’d intended, for as soon as he spoke, all heads turned in his direction.   
  
Ron was the first to verbalize what must have been on everyone’s mind.   
  
“Who’s a witch?”   
  
“Dudley Dursley’s daughter,” Ginny replied with awe.   
  
George roared with laughter, his face alit with absolute delight. “Your cousin’s daughter, Harry? Your sodding Muggle cousin, whose parents whimpered at the very thought of magic?”  
  
“Oi, come on, he’s not his parents, and he’s not as bad as he used to be,” Harry argued, although the smile refused to disappear from his face. “He’s practically a different person, actually.”  
  
“His wife’s been a wonderful influence on him, I’d say,” declared Ginny, nodding matter-of-factly. “She’s a miracle worker, that one.”  
  
“Wait, _wait_ a moment. Dad, cousin Sinead is going to Hogwarts with us?” James said, his arms loosely perched on Hugo’s neck, frozen in position from the headlock he’d been about to give his cousin. Harry narrowed his eyes at the sight; James rolled his own, and raised his arms in a picture of surrender. “So? Her dad’s going to let her go?”  
  
“He just agreed to go buy her things with us, so, yes!”   
  
“That’s amazing, Harry,” Hermione said. Sitting on Harry and Ginny’s auburgine couch, she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in a position of rapt attention. “I wonder how Dudley’s taking all this.”   
  
“Probably pulling his hair out,” George quipped.   
  
Angelina elbowed him in the ribs.   
  
“He’s no ordinary Muggle,” she said as George rubbed his side in mock-pain. “He’s familiar with magic and knows it runs in his family. This can’t have been a shock to him, surely?”  
  
“He’s a Muggle who grew up thinking magic was poison,” Ron pointed out. “His parents wouldn’t even say the word.”   
  
“He sounded all right on the phone,” said Harry. It was true; Dudley had seemed very self-contained, very in-control. Not only that, he hadn’t appeared to be taking the situation as the great tragedy his parents had always made it out to be. But, as Harry had to remind himself sometimes, Dudley was neither of his parents. “And he basically agreed to let her go. I’d say he’s taking it rather well.”  
  
Hermione shrugged. “Still, it can’t be easy for him. I suppose we’ll find out for certain when we meet them. How will you be taking them to Diagon Alley, anyway?”   
  
Harry hadn’t considered that. Dudley had a perfectly working fireplace in his house, but Harry suspected introducing the Dursleys to Floo Powder so soon would only disconcert them. Harry recalled his own harrowing experience with the stuff vividly and silently resolved to leave such a method of travel for when Sinead grew more accustomed to the magical world and the thought of traveling by fire did not seem as terrifying as it sounded.  
  
“We’ll drive.”   
  
“From the Dursleys’ house to London?” said Ginny skeptically. “Harry, that’s at least an hour’s drive, isn’t it?”   
  
“It’ll be fine. I’m sure they won’t mind the time to prepare themselves,” Harry reasoned.  
  
“Don’t say anything to scare them,” Hermione said, amusement creeping into the corners of her eyes.  
  
Later, as he stood on Dudley’s doorstep, Hermione’s words returned to hammer away with a resounding insistence at Harry’s every other thought. What if Dudley were not as composed as he had seemed on the phone? What if Elaine had trouble accepting the fact that her daughter was a witch? What if Cillian were jealous?  
  
Taking a deep breath and readying himself for the worst-case scenario, Harry raised his hand and rang the doorbell.   
  


***

  
  
Dudley hurried to open the door, inwardly wondering why on earth Harry had decided to show up after only a few minutes instead of the agreed-upon sixty. Dudley supposed Harry could wait for them all as they got dressed and ready but, really, this would only give them cause to rush.   
  
Pulling the door open, Dudley stared. There was nobody in his line of vision.  
  
“Good morning, Mr. Dursley,” squeaked a voice around his navel area.   
  
Dudley glanced down and sighed. A tiny girl with mousy brown hair, glasses, and a gap-toothed smile was staring up at him. In her hands was a yellow beach ball.   
  
“Good morning, Macy.” Dudley frowned. With all that had happened that day, Dudley had completely forgotten that Macy and Sinead had taken to playing together every morning this summer. Both of them had some maddening internal clock that woke them up precisely at daybreak - without any assistance - and so they spent much time together.   
  
“Where’s Sinead?” asked Macy.   
  
Dudley smiled kindly and thought fast. “She’s – uh – she can’t play today. We’re going on a little family trip, see.”   
  
“Where?” asked the small brunette curiously, her grip on the beach ball loosening.  
  
“To…visit family.”   
  
“Oh.” Macy looked satisfied and, thankfully, did not ask Dudley any more perturbing questions. “Okay. Will you tell her I came by?”   
  
“That I will,” replied Dudley, painfully aware that he was not lying this time. He closed the door as Macy walked away, a slight frown on her face, and considered the true ramifications of Sinead’s leaving. How on earth would he explain it to Macy and her parents? The neighbors? How would they be able to justify sending Sinead away to a boarding school in Scotland that nobody had ever heard of? Worse, how would he explain himself seven years later, when Sinead left Harry’s school and went to work in their world? What would he say to friends who asked what university Sinead was attending?   
  
Suddenly, Dudley became aware of what sending Sinead to Hogwarts would mean. It would mean being cut off from everyone they had known before this. It would mean secrecy and lies and always covering their tracks. It would mean Sinead and Macy would probably no longer be friends. Sinead would be separated from everyone who was not like her. At that moment, Dudley recognized what Elaine had understood from the start. He shook his head to clear away the doubt that was beginning to creep up on him. Like he had told Elaine, they couldn’t very well turn back time and never open the letter. Whether they liked it or not, this had happened to them, and they could not ignore it. And Sinead…Sinead’s face lit up with the possibility of magic. If Dudley became the cause of her unhappiness…even if Sinead forgave him, he would never forgive himself.   
  
“Where is he?” asked Elaine, the moment Dudley stepped back into the living room.   
  
“It wasn’t Harry,” he started hesitantly. Carefully watching his daughter’s face, he said, “It was Macy.”   
  
Sinead’s face was not an expressive one, and her personality not a fervent one, but over the years Dudley had grown to know his youngest child’s face by heart. Therefore, he knew what it meant when she blinked, her eyes remaining closed for just a second longer than normal, and directed her gaze to empty space upon lifting her eyelids.   
  
“Can I tell her, Dad?” Sinead asked softly, knowingly.  
  
Even if Penrose hadn’t drilled the importance of the magical world’s secrecy into him before she left, Dudley would not have been able to answer his daughter affirmatively. There was no mingling the two worlds; he knew that very well.   
  
“I’m afraid not,” said Dudley.   
  
“Are you changing your mind, Sinead?” Elaine asked, a twinge of hope apparent in her voice. “You’ll barely be able to see Macy if you go away, you know. You’d lose her as a friend.”  
  
For a minute Sinead didn’t answer. Then she shrugged. “I’ll make other friends.”   
  
Dudley saw Elaine’s shoulders slump in defeat. “I suppose we should all get dressed, then,” he said slowly. Sinead hurried up the stairs to her room and, a few seconds later, Cillian slowly followed. Elaine made her way upstairs as well, although not before giving Dudley a frustrated look. Already fully dressed, Dudley called his company and informed them he would not be able to come in that day. Then he sat on the couch, exhaled, and began to wait.


	6. In Which a Spark Flies

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath as he waited for someone to open the door. A few moments later, Harry was face to face with Dudley.   
  
The last time Harry had seen his cousin had been a few months ago, when Elaine had invited Harry and Ginny over for dinner. Dudley looked exactly the same as he had last time: same flat blond hair, wide blue eyes, and muscular body. Harry thought he might have even been wearing the same suit. Dudley’s attire made Harry feel rather under-dressed in his own jeans and t-shirt. He wondered if he should tell Dudley that he needn’t dress so formally for a trip to Diagon Alley, but quickly decided against it.   
  
“Harry.” Dudley nodded with a small smile as he shook Harry’s hand.   
  
Harry grinned back easily and stepped inside at Dudley’s welcoming gesture. The smell of deep fried bacon wafted into Harry’s nostrils the minute he advanced towards the kitchen. He grimaced inwardly, thinking back to Dudley’s eleventh birthday, when Aunt Petunia had harshly instructed him to prevent the bacon from burning. Shaking his head slightly to banish the memory, he turned to Dudley.   
  
“How’s…everything?” Harry asked pointedly as Dudley shut the front door.   
  
Dudley sighed and loosened his tie. “Elaine’s not too pleased. But everything’s been happening so fast, I’m not sure I’ve even begun to make sense of it yet.”   
  
Harry nodded reassuringly, following Dudley into the living room. “She has no reason to worry, really. Hogwarts is the safest place in the magical world.” Harry took a seat opposite Dudley on the couch, sinking into the beige, feather-filled cushions. “It’s brilliant. Sinead will love it. And it’s not like she’ll be on her own – James and Albus attend, and Lily’s starting this year.”  
  
Dudley nodded, a tight smile on his lips. “Just be sure to tell Elaine all that.”   
  
“What’s that you’re going to tell me?” Elaine strode towards Harry to shake his hand, her expression a mix of worry, exasperation, and something else Harry couldn’t read.   
  
Elaine had always been a mystery to Harry. When Dudley had announced his engagement to an Irish woman three years his senior, Harry had envisioned many things (Uncle Vernon’s outrage among them), but he had not envisioned a dainty brunette with petite, ethereal features. For some reason, he’d never really pictured she and Dudley meshing – but as they had been happily married for eighteen years, Harry had no reason to doubt their relationship.   
  
Harry smiled indulgently at Elaine as she sat down on the armchair to his right, staring at him with skeptical, raised eyebrows. He repeated everything he had just said to Dudley. Elaine was nodding her head in acknowledgement, but her expression had not changed.   
  
“It’s just that she’s _eleven_ ,” said Elaine once Harry had finished speaking. “She’s so young. How can I let her be on her own?”  
  
“She’ll be with other eleven-year-olds her age,” Harry responded, leaning towards Elaine. “She’ll be well fed and have her clothes laundered and sleep in a warm bed. All she has to worry about is schoolwork.”   
  
“What about church?” said Elaine abruptly. Harry heard Dudley emit a barely audible sigh, and Harry’s own mouth produced something akin to a croak.   
  
“Church?”   
  
“Yes, church,” said Elaine, almost fiercely. “Sinead and I go every Sunday. She’s still Catholic.”  
  
It was then that Harry noticed the sizeable gold cross that hung from Elaine’s neck. She was Irish, and so it made sense for her to be a devout Catholic, but having never been reared on anything remotely spiritual himself, the idea of religion seemed as though it were a completely foreign topic.   
  
“Well,” he began carefully, “there are no churches at Hogwarts, but, erm, that doesn’t necessarily mean Sinead won’t be Catholic anymore.”  
  
“It’s hardly our biggest problem, Elaine,” said Dudley rather dryly.   
  
Elaine opened her mouth to respond with what most likely would have been a scathing retort, judging by her expression, but she stopped at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Harry turned around; Sinead was at the foot of the stairs, staring curiously at Harry. She was just as he remembered her: small, pale, with brown fringe and light brown eyes to match. She was all Elaine; Harry could not see Dudley in her no matter how hard he looked. Sinead smiled shyly at him and he grinned back widely. Unable to contain his delight, Harry jumped off the couch to embrace her.   
  
“How do you feel?” he asked the little girl, who was nervously smoothing down her periwinkle blue skirt.   
  
“Excited,” she said, her voice not conveying the emotion one bit. “A bit nervous, as well.”  
  
“Good,” said Harry. “That’s just how you’re supposed to feel! Have you got your list of items?”  
  
“It’s right here,” said Dudley, picking it up off the tea table. Harry read through it – other than a few minor changes in the booklist, the requirements were completely familiar.  
  
“Well, it’s all here,” Harry said with a chuckle.  
  
“You know where we’re going to buy all that?” Elaine asked skeptically.   
  
“Diagon Alley,” said Harry cheerfully. Predictably, Elaine remained silent, a questioning expression on her face. “It’s in the heart of London, but it’s hidden from the non-magical world,” Harry explained patiently. “It’s a wizard shopping district, basically. We can find everything Sinead needs there.”  
  
“So all this magic stuff is seriously happening?” a male voice asked.   
  
Harry looked towards the stairs; Cillian was descending, his hands in his pockets. Here was another child who greatly resembled his mother. Cillian also had inherited Elaine’s petite frame and dark hair, although his startling blue eyes did belong to his father. Harry had been apprehensive about Cillian’s reaction – after all, his grandmother’s reaction to her sister’s magical ability was envy, which quickly led to hatred. But Cillian, after all, was not a child, as Petunia had been. Besides that, Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of Bill Weasley when he gazed at Cillian: his mind refused to describe Cillian using a word other than ‘cool.’   
  
“I’m afraid so,” Harry joked.   
  
“She’ll be taken care of, up at this place?” asked Cillian doubtfully, gesturing to Sinead.  
  
“Very well,” Harry reassured. His spirits lifted – Cillian’s behavior was protective, not jealous. “She’ll be with all her cousins as well, so you’ve nothing to worry about.”  
  
Harry caught Sinead giving Cillian a small smile before he turned to Dudley and said, “Well, then, shall we go?”   
  
Dudley glanced at Elaine, who nodded.   
  
“All right, then, let’s be off.”   
  


***

  
  
Sinead thought the drive to London was rather quiet. Her father was driving, and Uncle Harry was sitting beside him. Sinead was between her mother and brother, both of whom were starting out their respective windows. The silence was awkward; Sinead could feel the tension in the air, yet she did not say a word. She merely smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt again.   
  
“You’ll want to park around here, Dudley,” Harry said. “We can’t get all the way there by car; we’ll need to walk.”  
  
Dudley quickly obeyed, swerving slightly to snag the nearest vacancy. They all exited the car and began to walk, and soon they were in the heart of London. Sinead looked around with distaste. She had only been to London a few times before, and she had never got used to the city’s constant roars and putrid smells. She much preferred the quiet of her own home in the country. Silently, she prayed that her new school would be in a similar place.   
  
Harry directed them to a broken-down escalator that led to a small but lively street lined with very ordinary shops. Cillian stealthily took Sinead’s hand in his and pulled her close, away from the crowds. As they passed, Sinead wondered if there were truly a magical community laying hidden among all this. Nowhere did it seem a magic wand shop could hide from all the normal people wandering around.   
  
When Harry stopped in front of a pub that looked as though it had been there for a thousand years, and been badly taken care of, Sinead heard her mother snort.   
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Elaine incredulously. “A pub?”   
  
But Sinead was sure it wasn’t just a pub. It was so small and so hidden, she was sure she would not have seen it at all had Uncle Harry not pointed it out. Indeed, all the passers-by did not seem to see it either; despite the fact that she and her family were crowded around it, nobody seemed to give them or the pub even a glance.   
  
Harry broke into a smile and held the door open for them. “It’s the Leaky Cauldron. Don’t worry; it’s only the gateway to Diagon Alley.”   
  
They slipped in, and most of the people inside immediately smiled or nodded at Harry. A fixed grin on his own features, Harry made a beeline for the back of the pub, and the Dursleys followed quickly, Dudley averting his eyes, Cillian burning a hole in every single person present.   
  
They stood in a small, walled courtyard. To Sinead’s left stood a pile of boxes that looked as though they would tip over any second. To her right was a barrel.   
  
“Why are we in here?” asked Cillian, glancing around suspiciously.   
  
“You’ll see,” said Harry. Then he took out his wand and tapped the brick wall ahead of them three times. Suddenly – the bricks began to move! Sinead felt Cillian involuntarily step backwards, causing her to stumble along with him. The bricks continued to wriggle until they molded themselves into a large archway that opened onto a coiled, cobbled street. Letting go of Cillian, Sinead took a step forward, past Harry and through the archway. She gasped. Harry laughed heartily.   
  
“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” he said cheerily.  
  
Sinead could see her family’s awe on their faces as they walked down the street. She saw shops that sold cauldrons and broomsticks and owls. A strange, spicy smell reached her nose and invaded her mouth. She sneezed it away and continued to crane her neck, staring at everything in sight.  
  
“We’ve got to convert your money to wizard gold first,” Harry explained. “So we’ll need to visit Gringotts, the wizard bank.”   
  
“Harry!”   
  
A woman with bushy brown hair approached Sinead’s uncle with a smile. Harry introduced her as Hermione Granger. She courteously shook everyone’s hand, including Sinead’s.   
  
“Sinead, why don’t you and Cillian go with Hermione,” Harry began, “while your parents and I go to Gringotts. We can all meet up in Flourish and Blotts.”  
  
Sinead glanced at her mother, who did not seem to like this idea at all, and frankly, neither did Sinead. Dudley squeezed Elaine’s shoulder and she relaxed a bit, although she still did not look entirely comfortable.   
  
“Keep an eye on your sister, Cillian,” Elaine ordered.   
  
Cillian nodded absently and placed his arm loosely around Sinead’s shoulders. She leaned into him, glad that she was not all alone.   
  
“So, Sinead, how do you feel?” asked Hermione. “Nervous? Excited?”  
  
“Both, yes,” Sinead replied politely.   
  
“It’s quite natural,” Hermione reassured. “I’m Muggleborn, too, you know, so it was all rather shocking to me at first as well. It’s all very new and scary, but it’ll fall right into place and you’ll make friends, so you needn’t worry.” Hermione then gave her a wide smile.   
  
Thinking she must want a response, Sinead smiled tightly and replied, “Yes, thanks.”  
  
Hermione maneuvered them towards a shop where all kinds of books were stacked from floor to ceiling. There were books as large as a coffee table and books that could fit in your pocket; luminous, glowing books and battered books that looked a thousand years old. Sinead gazed in awe at the vast amount of knowledge that awaited her. She even felt her nerves at meeting her cousins and their friends ebbing away.   
  
It came back full-force, though, when she saw them standing in a huddle, staring at her. She squeezed Cillian’s hand as she struggled to stop her heart from pounding. There were five people all standing together, whispering, and their eyes were keenly on Sinead. She vaguely recognized her cousins, James, Albus, and Lily, but she did not know the other two.  
  
“Everyone, this is Sinead, and her brother Cillian,” said Hermione. “Sinead, you know James, Albus, and Lily. And these two are mine, Rose and Hugo.”   
  
Sinead noticed that Lily’s and Rose’s gazes lingered on Cillian before they turned to her. Both smiled kindly. Sinead thought Rose was very pretty, with striking blue eyes and sleek auburn hair. A flare of jealousy threatened to ignite within Sinead, but she quickly put it out, as she was apt to do.   
  
“Lily and Hugo are starting this year as well,” Hermione continued.   
  
Sinead’s attention was drawn to Hugo, who shyly raised a hand in greeting. Ringlets of bright red hair framed his pale, freckled face, strands falling into large blue eyes much like his sister’s. He was the skinniest boy Sinead had ever seen, and he was much taller than her – but then, so was everyone else. Lily grinned in greeting, her brown eyes twinkling.   
  
“So, Sinead, how do you feel?” Lily asked.  
  
Sinead wished people would stop asking her that. She couldn’t quite articulate how she felt even to _herself_ , let alone somebody she had just met. Yes, her stomach was fluttering and her heart was swelling with joy at the wonders she was seeing, but there was also a heavy weight on her chest whenever she thought of leaving behind Cillian and her parents to attend a school where she would barely know a single person. Sinead, after all, had only been seeing her cousins about once a year.   
  
“I feel all right,” Sinead said.   
  
Lily took Sinead’s arm in hers, wrenching her away from Cillian. “C’mon, let’s go find your books, then, and get out of here. I don’t like being in this place; it’s too dark.”  
  
Sinead actually found Flourish and Blotts wonderfully cozy. She wanted to stay in there for ages, reading about all the possibilities magic would give her. Professor Penrose had turned a tissue into a beautiful lily. Sinead wanted to do that, but she also wanted to turn wood into water and water into crystal. These books would tell her how, and Sinead’s ability to follow instructions had been perfected over the years.   
  
However, Lily seemed in quite a hurry to get out, so Sinead only managed a few glances before she had her required books in a large bag. Lily appeared disappointed when she learned that they needed to wait for Sinead’s parents to arrive so they could pay, and asked Sinead why she hadn’t mentioned it. Sinead shrugged silently, and Lily did not read too much into it. As they waited in the bookstore, Lily and Rose chatted nonstop while Sinead listened. When they turned away to speak to Hugo, who was hanging onto James and Albus’s every word silently, Sinead backed away into Cillian. He caught her and turned her around lightly.   
  
“How’re you doing?” he asked.   
  
“You’re the one who’s quieter than usual,” Sinead shot back with a small grin.   
  
Cillian shrugged. “It’s your...adventure,” he sighed.   
  
Sinead frowned a little at Cillian’s words, but before she could respond with a question, her parents were back with Harry. Sinead smiled at her mother, who’d looked at her questioningly, to reassure her. Dudley and Harry trekked back inside the crowded shop to pay for Sinead’s books, and as soon as they were out, the group made their way to a place called Madam Malkin’s, which sold robes. On the way there, James and Albus disengaged themselves from everyone else to go look at broomsticks. Replacing them were a tall man with red hair, who kissed Hermione on the cheek upon arrival, and a young boy, who looked about Sinead’s age. He nodded to Sinead, who nodded back and couldn’t help but stare into his bright blue eyes, which were set in a warm olive-skinned face. The color combination was startling and exotic, but not altogether unappealing, Sinead thought.   
  
“Hullo, Sinead,” said the tall man whom Sinead assumed was Hermione’s husband. “I’m Ron, your Uncle Harry’s mate.” He pointed to the dark-skinned boy he’d brought along. “That’s Freddie, my nephew.” Freddie managed a small smile, but by the time Sinead gathered her wits and smiled back, his had faded. As she replayed the moment in her mind, she wondered if his smile had actually been a kind of grimace.  
  
After Sinead, Lily, Hugo, and Freddie bought their robes, they bought a cauldron, scales, and basic potion ingredients. Sinead found her gaze steadying on Freddie, who was examining everything in the Apothecary with extreme interest. When he turned and caught her staring, Sinead held his gaze only for a second before turning away. She scuttled over to Cillian, who was poking what appeared to be dried frogs’ legs.   
  
“What did you mean, before?” Sinead asked in a low voice, so that only he could hear her.   
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“What you said before.”  
  
Cillian turned to her. “What are you on about?”  
  
“When you told me it’s my ‘adventure,’” Sinead clarified. Cillian raised his eyebrows at her, as though expecting more. “Well?” Sinead pressed.  
  
“Well, what? It is your adventure, not mine.” Cillian turned back to look at the frogs’ legs.  
  
“Are you jealous?” Sinead asked him.   
  
“Not particularly, no,” replied Cillian easily. “Astounded and amazed, yes. That’s all.”   
  
Sinead nodded when Cillian smiled at her reassuringly. After the Apothecary, Sinead, Cillian, and their parents separated from Harry and the others. Lily and Hugo both wanted pets – Lily a cat and Hugo an owl – but Sinead had no interest in animals. Cats made her sneeze, and she didn’t think she wanted a bird, especially not an owl.   
  
Uncle Harry gave them directions to their final stop, the wandmaker’s shop, called Ollivanders.  
  
“This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” said Sinead’s father thoughtfully. “My parents always went on and on about how freaky this all was – and it is – but it’s actually rather interesting, too. And everyone’s been quite genial, wouldn’t you say, Elaine?”  
  
Sinead looked at her mother, who seemed to have relaxed a bit. “I suppose,” said Elaine reluctantly.   
  
Soon they were at the front door of the wand shop. It was a small, narrow shop tucked away into a corner. Bright gold letters over the door read “Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.” The shop was dark and gloomy indoors. Thousands of narrow boxes Sinead guessed held wands were piled high on top of each other all the way to the ceiling. On the front desk was what appeared to be wrinkled snakeskin. Sinead saw her parents exchange an uneasy glance.   
  
It was Cillian who broke the anxious silence.  
  
“Hello?” he called out. “Anyone home?”  
  
“Yes, yes, just a moment!” an accented male voice called out. Sinead heard a couple of thuds and a crash, and soon the owner of the voice appeared. He was an Indian man in his late twenties, with waist-length hair and glasses. His robes were a deep blood red. He smiled at Sinead warmly and said, “I’ll just finish up with Mr. Scamandar here and be right with you.”   
  
Sinead frowned, then noticed a very tall boy walk out of the towers of wands. He was the palest person she’d ever seen, and his curly white-blonde hair made him look even paler. His eyes were startlingly dark; a stark contrast against his fair skin.   
  
“Well, Lorcan,” said the Indian man. “Cypress, dragon heartstring, twelve inches. That’ll be seven Galleons.”   
  
Sinead watched the solitary Lorcan Scamandar dig out a brown pouch and pay the man. She wondered where his parents were.  
  
“Thank you, sir,” said the owner.   
  
Lorcan Scamandar took his wand and placed it in his bag. He nodded to Sinead and her family without looking at them, and walked out of the shop.  
  
“My name is Aniruddha Sharma,” the shop owner said, shaking each of their hands in turn.   
  
“It says Ollivanders on the door,” said Dudley bemusedly, jabbing his thumb towards the front of the shop.   
  
“Mr. Ollivander retired some time ago,” Mr. Sharma explained. “He took me on as his apprentice soon after his retirement, but because my father was a wandmaker in Bangladesh I’ve been apprenticed since birth. I assure you, I’m fully qualified.”   
  
“We don’t doubt it,” said Dudley genially. “I’m Dudley Dursley. This is my daughter, Sinead. She needs a wand.”  
  
“Of course,” said Mr. Sharma, smiling. “Which is your wand arm, Miss Dursley?”   
  
“I’m…right-handed.”   
  
“All right, then.” He took out a tape measure and began measuring just about every inch of Sinead. She saw her mother raise her eyebrows when the tape began measuring without Mr. Sharma’s assistance. He was shuffling along the boxes of wands, picking a few out.   
  
“Try this one,” said Mr. Sharma, holding out a dark brown wand. “Wave it around just a bit.”  
  
Sinead did so, feeling rather silly, but holding firmly to the image of Professor Penrose turning a tissue into a lily. Nothing happened. Mr. Sharma shook his head and gave her another wand to try. Again, nothing happened. After she had waved six wands with absolutely no results, Sinead started to get worried. What if the glass of water had been a fluke? What if she really wasn’t magic after all?  
  
Mr. Sharma was stroking his chin. “Hmm, all right, hang on.” He disappeared into the back of his shop and returned with a thin, black box.   
  
“Nine inches. Ash and boomslang venom.” He gestured to the snake skin on his desk. “It’s rather uncommon in Britain to use snake venom as a core, but prevalent in my country. It’s a rather good wand for Transfiguration.”  
  
Transfiguration. As in turning one thing into another. With a deep breath, Sinead took the wand from Mr. Sharma’s outstretched hand. Immediately she felt a kind of tingling in her fingertips, a feeling of kinship, a feeling that she would not, could not, let this wand go. She waved it. A shower of purple sparks emitted from the end, and Sinead smiled. She heard Cillian’s surprised but delighted laugh, as well as her parents’ awed gasps. Mr. Sharma clapped his hands together, smiling widely.   
  
“There you are, Miss Dursley.” He walked behind his desk. “Seven galleons, please.”   
  
As Dudley dug in his own pouch and paid the man, Harry, Ron, Lily, Hugo, Freddie, and a tall black woman Sinead assumed was Freddie’s mother walked in. She confirmed this the moment she spoke.  
  
“You must be Sinead,” she said. “I’m Angelina, Freddie’s mother.” She turned to Sinead’s parents and Cillian. “I imagine this must be quite a shock for you. It must feel surreal.”   
  
“Very much so,” Elaine replied, a small smile gracing her face.  
  
Angelina smiled back. “I know you’re worried about sending Sinead off alone, but she won’t be. Really, she’s got all her cousins and all the family friends. She’ll be far from alone. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”  
  
“What’s your wand like, Sinead?” Ron asked.   
  
Before Sinead could respond, Mr. Sharma said, “Nine inches, made of ash, boomslang venom core. Good for Transfiguration.”  
  
Harry grimaced. “Boomslang venom? Can you put that in a wand?”   
  
“I assure you, Mr. Potter, it works quite well in my country.” It seemed as though Mr. Sharma never stopped smiling. For a split second, Sinead wondered if he’d enchanted his face to smile permanently, as a customer service improvement.   
  
Soon Lily, Hugo, and Freddie walked out with wands of their own. Outside of the shop, Sinead was introduced to George Weasley, another redhead and Freddie’s father. They were quite a large group walking through Diagon Alley: four families striding through the narrow street. Sinead’s parents and brother remained rather silent as the rest of the group conversed.  
  
“I ran into Lorcan Scamandar earlier,” said Ginny to Hermione. Sinead’s ears picked up on the familiar name and a pale face popped into her head. Stealthily, she inched closer to the two women and concentrated as hard as she could on their voices.  
  
“He was alone, as usual,” Ginny continued. “Poor boy.”   
  
Sinead frowned. Why was Lorcan often alone? Was he an orphan?   
  
“Why didn’t we invite him along with us?” asked Hermione.   
  
“I tried,” Ginny said, sighing heavily. “I spoke to his father, who wrote back that he’d take Lorcan to Diagon Alley himself.”  
  
Hermione shook her head. “He was probably drunk when writing it. I mean, when isn’t he these days?” she said sadly.   
  
Ginny nodded unhappily, and soon the topic of conversation turned to familial matters. There were too many unrecognizable names for Sinead to follow their trains of thought without confusion, so she fell back into step with her own family.   
  
Soon it came time for them to part ways. Harry hugged Sinead and explained to her parents how she would board the Hogwarts Express, in case they didn’t meet at the station. Sinead’s eyebrows flew high when he said she’d be passing through a wall to get to her train, but she didn’t comment, and neither did her parents. Only Cillian scoffed lightly.   
  
The car ride home was quiet. The events of the day still seemed surreal to Sinead, as though the next time they hit a bump on the road she would be jolted awake from a dream. It did not seem possible that next morning her father would be off to work as usual after eating his morning breakfast of bacon and sausages. There was still about half a month left until Sinead went off to her new school; it seemed so strange that there should be no hint of magic until then.   
  
Sinead thought she fell asleep in the car. It was a kind of half-sleep; she was immobile, yet she felt Cillian’s arms carry her upstairs to her bedroom. He removed her shoes and tucked her in. Cillian remained seated on her bed for a minute, his hand playing with her hair lightly, but then he abruptly stood up and left, leaving Sinead to retreat fully into sleep.


	7. In Which a Hat Sings

Sinead stared doubtfully at the clearly solid brick wall in front of her. Uncle Harry had said that all she had to do was walk through it, but now that she was here, she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach was doing flips of unease and thrill. When she looked at the anxious faces of her parents, the former intensified.   
  
As her mother hugged her, Sinead felt as though her back might just snap in two. Guiltily, she pulled apart and smiled reassuringly at Elaine, who could not seem to stop furrowing her brow.   
  
“All right, Elaine, she’ll be fine.” Sinead’s father patted his wife on the shoulder before bending down to give Sinead a hug that wasn’t quite as lethal. “We’ll miss you, love. If anything goes wrong, you just write and we’ll have you back in a jiffy, all right?”   
  
Sinead nodded, but privately she thought that the only way she would leave Hogwarts was if the entire school collapsed and she was left homeless. She turned to Cillian, who was slouching in the background, hands in the pockets of his frayed blue jeans, a dirty, white shirt hanging loosely off his skinny frame.   
  
He took two steps forward and ruffled Sinead’s hair, causing her newly trimmed fringe to manoeuvre itself to the side. She smoothed it back straight across her eyebrows the way she preferred it and smiled up at Cillian.   
  
“Have fun, kiddo,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.   
  
“I will!” said Sinead. With one last smile at her parents, Sinead turned around and began pushing her luggage cart forward towards Platform 9 and 3/4. She surreptitiously looked around for what Uncle Harry had called “Muggles,” for it would not do for an eleven-year-old to be seen walking through a solid wall. Luckily, all the Muggles around were either occupied or looking elsewhere. Heart pounding, Sinead began to pick up speed, the brick wall advancing closer and closer by the second.   
  
_It’s going to work,_ thought Sinead. _It’s going to let me through; I’m magic, it has to._  
  
At the last second, Sinead closed her eyes and pushed herself forward, practically jumping onto her cart. She felt a curious breeze ruffle her skirt, and, when she opened her eyes, she was faced with a steaming train with a large letter H on its front. All around the platform were students, kids her age as well as teenagers Cillian’s size. Taking a depth breath to steady herself, Sinead began walking towards the giant locomotor. Almost immediately, she caught sight of her Uncle Harry, with Lily at his side. They both waved her over frantically.  
  
“Hello, Sinead,” Uncle Harry said, smiling brightly. “Everyone’s already on the train, but-”  
  
“But I said I’d wait for you, so you could sit with us,” said Lily, bouncing on her toes.   
  
“Thanks,” said Sinead.   
  
“I’ve got your luggage,” heaved Uncle Harry as he lifted Sinead’s trunk. “I’ll take care of it, but here, make sure you’ve got your robes with you – there – now why don’t you and Lily get on board? The train’s to leave in ten minutes.”   
  
Sinead followed the exuberant Lily onto the train. The redhead did not stop talking as she looked into compartments for the rest of their company.  
  
“I am so excited, aren’t you?” Without giving Sinead a chance to respond, she continued, “I’ve wanted to go to Hogwarts for ages and ages. Isn’t it great that we’ll finally get to do magic like everyone else in the family?”  
  
Sinead wanted to tell her that, unlike Lily, magic for Sinead was a new discovery, that no one in _her_ family could ever hope to identify with her or vice versa. But she remained silent, for she wasn’t sure how to phrase her words in a way that did not sound either pompous or ungrateful. Thankfully, Lily didn’t seem to be bothered by her silence. She reminded Sinead very much of Macy, who had also seemed able to talk for several minutes without taking a breath. This ability is why Sinead enjoyed both Macy and Lily’s company: the burden of speech was never on her.  
  
Finally, Lily came to a stop both in speech and stride and slid a compartment door open, shouting a greeting to those inside. Sinead carefully stepped forward, nodding a hello to Hugo and Freddie, who were seated across from each other inside. Lily had taken a seat beside Hugo, and so Sinead slipped onto Freddie’s bench. He smiled awkwardly at her, and, after a moment, turned to look out the window.   
  
“Oh, Sinead, I hope you’re in Gryffindor!” said Lily minutes later. “Everyone in the family has been in Gryffindor.”  
  
“What’s…Gryffindor?”   
  
“They’re houses.” Freddie was the one to speak this time. Sinead turned to him; he was staring straight at her. “There are four of them: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each one represents different qualities in a person, and every student gets sorted into one of them. Not that it matters, really, where you go.”   
  
“Of course it matters!” Lily insisted. “Slytherin, for example, has turned out all the evil witches and wizards in the world! Who’d want to be in Slytherin? And Hufflepuff has all the chumps.”  
  
Freddie rolled his eyes. “Please. It’s all old nonsense. You should really stop repeating everything Uncle Ron says, Lil.”   
  
Lily shrugged. “Whatever. But I know where I want to go – I want to be in Gryffindor along with everyone else!”  
  
“What’ll you do if you get into another house, though?” asked Hugo worriedly.  
  
“I won’t. Don’t worry about it.” Lily smiled.   
  
Lily did not stop talking throughout the entire journey. Her stamina amazed Sinead, who did not even try to keep up with her. It was mostly Hugo who kept Lily engaged, and Freddie spent most of his time alternating between staring out the window and making small talk with Sinead.  
  
Soon, a voice from nowhere rang within the compartment. “We shall be arriving at Hogwarts shortly – please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”  
  
Sinead and the others put on their robes as the train came to a screeching halt. They bustled out into the hall with hundreds of other students and shuffled outside onto a dark, chilly platform. Sinead clutched her robes tightly to her chest and saw Lily, silent for once, do the same. Sniffing, Sinead lifted her head at a light that seemed to be moving towards them on its own. If it had been, it wouldn’t have surprised her. The person who was actually holding it, however, did.  
  
She stared up at him, for he was the tallest person she’d ever seen. He was thick and dressed in a coat that made him seem even bulkier, and his large head was covered in wild, coarse hair that practically obscured his eyes. Something must have shown on her countenance, for Lily elbowed her and said, “Don’t worry. That’s Hagrid, gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor.”   
  
Sinead stared ahead, at Hagrid’s knees, as he said, “Firs’ years over here! Firs’ years follow me, please! This way!”   
  
Sinead separated herself from the rest of the crowd and followed the man called Hagrid as he made his way down a narrow, dark path that eventually led to a large, clear lake. Boats lined its shore. Lily elbowed her again and gestured upwards, smiling. Sinead followed her gaze, and a castle sitting gracefully atop a mountain came into view. She could not believe she hadn’t noticed it sooner. Hogwarts was enormous, with a myriad of towers, minarets, and windows reaching for a moon that calmly overlooked the scene.  
  
“No more’n four to a boat, that’s it now!” bellowed Hagrid, and the students scrambled forward. Sinead, Lily, Hugo, and Freddie shared a boat, while Hagrid had a boat all to himself. Once he had made sure everyone was seated, he shouted, “Forward!”   
  
As the boats began to glide across the lake by themselves, Sinead clutched the edge of her seat, but she needn’t have: the lake was as smooth as her mother’s linoleum kitchen counter. It was barely even swaying.   
  
Soon enough they were stumbling out of the boats and following Hagrid through a dark tunnel that led to a path of crumbling stone steps. A large, glistening oak door came into view as soon as Sinead began to climb. Hagrid knocked three times on the door, which immediately opened. A tall witch with long, wavy black hair stood there. Sinead blinked as she recognized Professor Penrose, who was just as intimidating as ever in emerald green robes.   
  
“Thank you, Hagrid,” said Professor Penrose. “First years, follow me.” She led them inside, through a hallways wider than most of the streets in Sinead’s neighbourhood, and finally settled them in an uncomfortably small chamber, where Sinead could hear the muted droning of other students.   
  
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor Penrose, peering down at all of them. “The start-of-term feast is set to begin very soon, but before that happens, all of you must be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is extremely important, because your house at Hogwarts will become something akin to your family. Classes will be attended with other students in your house, you will share a dormitory with other students in your house, and you will spend your free time in your house Common Room.  
  
“For those of you who do not yet know, the four houses are Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff. Each house possesses a unique and noble history, and each has produced outstanding alumni. While you are at Hogwarts, you can either earn or lose points for your house, depending on your accomplishments or transgressions. At the end of the year, the coveted house cup is awarded to the house with the most points. The House Cup is a great honour. Therefore, I suggest that each and every one of you makes sure to be of use to whichever house becomes yours.”  
  
Professor Penrose paused for a moment, allowing them all to take in her information, and then said, “We will begin the Sorting Ceremony shortly, in front of the rest of the school. Prepare yourselves now.” She left the chamber, her heeled boots echoing loudly with every step she took.   
  
Immediately, everyone begin to chatter.  
  
“How are we sorted?” Sinead asked the general vicinity. She did not think Lily had heard her, but Freddie turned to her and said, “Sorting Hat. Simple enough. Just place it on your head and it’ll tell you where you ought to go.”   
  
Sinead stood there, silently contemplating how on earth a hat was supposed to be able to tell her where she ought to be, when she heard Professor Penrose’s loud footsteps.   
  
“Form a line, now, and follow me,” she said, and led them into the Great Hall. It took Sinead’s breath away, with its marble walls and floating candles and ceilings that seemed to engulf the night sky. Four long tables laid out with goblets and plates seated the rest of the students, while another long table at the front of the Hall seated the rest of the teachers. Professor Penrose led them forward between the four tables, so that they came to a stop staring at the teachers, with their backs to the students.   
  
Professor Penrose placed a stool in front of them, and on the stool sat a raggedy hat. Sinead stared at it nervously, when suddenly a seam in the hat opened and began to twitch, like a mouth, and the hat began to _sing_.   
  
Trying not to blink, Sinead stared at the hat as it recounted the traits of the houses of Hogwarts. Gryffindor was the house of the brave and noble, Hufflepuff of the fair and kind, Ravenclaw of the clever and witty, and Slytherin of the ambitious and cunning. When the hat had finished its ode, Professor Penrose stepped forward, a long parchment in her hands.   
  
“When I call your name, you will step up and sit on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted.” She glanced down at her scroll. “Cassidy, Claudia.”   
  
A fiercely freckled girl with a bob of corn-coloured hair gracefully took a seat on the stool. It took only a few moments for the hat to shout out “RAVENCLAW!”  
  
The Ravenclaw table cheered Claudia Cassidy, but quickly quieted down as Professor Penrose shouted the next name. When she said, “Dursley, Sinead”, Lily tapped Sinead on the wrist, which was quite unnecessary as Sinead had already begun to walk to the Hat.  
  
She sat down, uncomfortably aware of the entire school staring at her. Professor Penrose, who had given no sign that she had ever met Sinead before, placed the hat on her head. To Sinead’s shock, a voice blared inside her mind.   
  
“Hmm, let’s see, not quite sure I see nobility and valour rolling off you…don’t think either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff would suit you very well. But you’re not quite a Slytherin, either, though there is cunning, yes, I can see that…hmm…Then, better be RAVENCLAW!”  
  
Sinead walked towards Claudia Cassidy, but not before seeing Lily, who, despite applauding enthusiastically, wore a sympathetic expression on her face. Sinead sat beside Claudia, who kept her attention focused on the sorting. Sinead did the same.  
  
Professor Penrose went through many names before finally getting to “Potter, Lily.” Lily practically ran to the stool, smiling as the hat sat on her head. After a full minute of deliberation, the hat finally shouted out “HUFFLEPUFF!”   
  
There was no longer a smile on Lily’s face; she slouched as she walked over to the Hufflepuff table, refusing to look anywhere other than the ground. But then Professor Penrose called out a name that drew Sinead’s attention away from the dejected Lily.   
  
The Hat spent almost two minutes on Lorcan Scamandar’s white-blonde head. When it yelled “RAVENCLAW!” Lorcan’s blank expression did not change one bit as he shuffled over to take a seat beside Sinead. He did not look at anyone but fixed his eyes on the Sorting.   
  
Hugo was sorted into Gryffindor; Sinead saw Lily trying to smile as she applauded him, and she saw Hugo give her a sympathetic smile. Freddie, however, was sorted into Ravenclaw and seemed to be quite pleased with this outcome as he took a seat across from Lorcan and Sinead.   
  
After Freddie there were two more students to be sorted, and then Professor Penrose rolled up her parchment and took the Sorting Hat away. At the staff table, a stern-looking old woman stood up, tapping her goblet as she did so.  
  
“Welcome, first-years, and to our other students, welcome back! I am Headmistress McGonagall. Before the banquet, I would like to make a few start-of-term announcements. First, as you all should know, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to _all_ students. Second, there is to be no magic used in the corridors of the school. And finally, Quidditch trials shall be held within two weeks. Anyone interested in playing Quidditch for his or her house team should speak with Madam Bell. And now, enjoy the feast!”   
  
Out of nowhere food appeared on Sinead’s plate, and her goblet filled with liquid. Despite all that had already happened, she found she still had it in her to be surprised.   
  
“It’s great, eh?” said Freddie, smiling. “And we’re in Ravenclaw. If you ask me, it’s the best house of them all. I’d rather be clever than brave and stupid.” He turned to Lorcan. “Wasn’t your mother in Ravenclaw?”  
  
Lorcan looked up from his plate suddenly, as though he had not expected anyone would speak to him. “Yes,” he said quietly. “She was.”   
  
Freddie nodded awkwardly, but Lorcan did not see; he had gone back to staring directly at his plate as he ate.   
  
“You don’t want to be with everyone else in your family?” asked Sinead. “Most of them are in Gryffindor.”   
  
Freddie laughed. “What about old Lily, eh? Can’t imagine she’s feeling too chuffed right now.”   
  
Sinead responded with a small smile and turned to glance at Lily, who was picking at the food on her plate.   
  
“I mean, after all her talk about Hufflepuff being full of chumps,” Freddie continued. “Well, maybe now she’ll stop with all her prejudice against the houses.”   
  
Sinead nodded, sipping pumpkin juice from her goblet so as to have something to do with her hands. Freddie soon went silent as he began to eat his food. Lorcan did not say another word the entire evening, but Sinead couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. His demeanour reminded her of herself, and she wondered if she actually appeared that unfriendly all the time.   
  
After the feast, a tall boy with curly brown hair called out to all the first years. Once they had gathered into a small group at his side, he said, “I’m Ezra, a Ravenclaw prefect, and I’m going to take you to your dormitories, so make sure to follow me closely.”  
  
Ezra led them out of the Great Hall and up a marble staircase, and then up a winding, spiral staircase. Dizzy from the height and all the stair climbing, the fact that the portraits around her were speaking did not even phase Sinead at all. Soon Ezra came to a halt in front of a wooden door with no knob or keyhole, just a bronze, eagle-shaped knocker, which Ezra took a hold of.   
  
To Sinead’s surprise, the beak opened and tittered out, “What goes up when the rain comes down?”   
  
Ezra gave it a moment’s thought, then said “Umbrella” a moment after Freddie had whispered it in her ear and after she herself had thought it. The door swung open to reveal a wide, circular room that gave off a strong impression of being large and airy. The temperature seemed to drop pleasantly the moment she stepped in; it was as though Sinead could see the breeze flowing through it. Windows curtained with bronze and blue surrounded the room evenly, and the domed ceiling was painted with bright stars, which matched the squishy carpet Sinead’s feet were sinking into. She suddenly found herself with a strong desire to be barefoot.   
  
“Girls dormitories are towards there, and boys, you’re there,” said Ezra, pointing to each staircase as he said it. “Go on, now. You’ve got class tomorrow, so I suggest you turn in early.”   
  
As Ezra went off to his own dormitory, most students obediently began to edge towards the staircase that led to their sleeping quarters. Lorcan, Sinead saw, was already halfway up his, a solitary figure even on the narrow staircase.   
  
“’Night,” said Freddie, and he went off after Lorcan.   
  
Sinead’s dormitory consisted of five four-poster beds hung up with midnight blue curtains and bedding. Her trunk was sitting at the foot of the bed beside the window, so she quickly advanced there, just as four other girls milled in, Claudia Cassidy among them.   
  
“Oh, hello,” said Claudia, smiling. “You’re Sinead, yeah? Hi.” She gestured to the three girls behind her. “This is Nina Thomas, Emily White, and Annabeth Mulligan.”  
  
Sinead awkwardly nodded a hello to each of them, and they each smiled back.   
  
“So what are you?” said Claudia. “I mean, not that it matters, we’re just curious – you know, Muggleborn, pureblood, what?”  
  
“Oh, um, my parents are both Muggles. But my father’s cousin is a wizard.”  
  
“Coolio. Who’s your da’s cousin?”  
  
“Oh, Harry Potter.”   
  
Claudia’s mouth dropped open, as did Annabeth’s. Nina simply stared, but Emily’s brow furrowed.  
  
“ _The_ Harry Potter?”  
  
“I…I guess, yeah. Is he…famous?”   
  
“Oh my God, you don’t _know_?” said Nina. “He’s Harry Potter!”  
  
“I don’t know, either,” said Emily.   
  
“He’s only the most famous wizard ever,” said Claudia. She put on her pyjamas and jumped into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “He defeated You-Know-Who.”   
  
“Sorry, I don’t know who,” said Emily, flummoxed.   
  
“He was this terrible, evil wizard who killed and tortured loads of people,” said Nina excitedly. “My dad told me all about it; he fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, you know.”   
  
“Really?” At this Claudia sat up straight, her undivided attention on Nina, who was nodding excitedly.   
  
“Yeah, yeah, he was actually on the run from You-Know-Who, you know, since he was imprisoning all the Muggleborns, but then he joined Harry Potter in the Battle of Hogwarts and helped him defeat You-Know-Who.”  
  
“Wow!” Annabeth said.  
  
“Impressive!” echoed Claudia. “Don’t worry, Sinead, Emily, I’m sure we’ll learn all about You-Know-Who in History of Magic, and then you two won’t be out of the loop.”  
  
“Or you could go to the library and look him up,” said Annabeth. “Sinead, I really think you’d better. I expect once people find out you’re related to Harry Potter, they’ll be bombarding you with questions.”  
  
Sinead nodded and crawled into her bed. Why hadn’t Uncle Harry mentioned how famous he was? He had been involved in a battle with one of the most evil and dangerous wizards in the world – and had killed him – and he hadn’t thought to mention any of it? She made a mental note not to mention that Harry Potter was her father’s cousin. Although she fully intended to go the library and look him up, she had no desire to be interrogated.   
  
Turning on her side, she shut out the other girls’ chatter and stared out the window beside her. It offered a spectacular view of the mountains and the forest beneath it. She thought of what her mother was doing at this moment, or her father, or Cillian. Were they wondering about her? She resolved to write them a letter the next day. Uncle Harry had said that she could always use the school owls; she’d just have to find the Owlery.   
  
Now only Claudia and Nina were whispering to each other, but soon even they quieted. Sinead sat up and sipped cold water from the jug on her nightstand. She sighed. The view from the window really was enchanting. However, she turned her back to it and closed her eyes, and within minutes she was fast asleep.


	8. In Which a Game Begins

Sinead was not the only one intimidated by Morgana Penrose: her presence cast a shadow over every guffawing student at Hogwarts. Freddie told Sinead that History of Magic had been a joke when Professor Binns was teaching (a ghost, teaching!), but Morgana Penrose would not accept slack from anyone. She gave out piles of homework, administered weekly exams, and had an unfortunate habit of randomly calling on students and asking them about obscure dates and facts. She commanded the class with a deep, resonating voice that kept everyone silent, and detention would be handed out to the unlucky student who happened to fall asleep. 

Sinead did not need the threat of detention to keep her alert. She enjoyed History of Magic very much; she felt it would eventually give her the chance to be on even footing with her peers. She liked Professor Penrose as well; her restraint appealed to Sinead. She did not even mind that History of Magic was the class that required the most work. 

Her other classes were almost as rigorous, although in different ways. Herbology strained her nerves, but Professor Longbottom made up for it by being the most understanding professor she had come across. Potions reminded Sinead very much of cooking, which she had never been allowed to do. She thought the subject was rather simple: all she had to do was follow a list of instructions and her potion would come out the way it was supposed to. 

She sat next to Lorcan in Potions, and they worked silently at the same pace while the class chattered. They only spoke after Sinead helped Lorcan slice up his beets properly. He thanked her for it. In the end his potion was more of a murky green than the emerald green it was supposed to be, but at least it was not as bad as Claudia Cassidy’s, which was bright blue. Lorcan snickered a bit when he noticed this, and Sinead acknowledged it as the first time she had ever seen him smile. 

In Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Kiba they mostly took notes, but she had heard older students twittering about how he simply liked to get them out of the way before he got to the “cool stuff.” Charms seemed to be the very cornerstone of the magical world, and Sinead noticed Lorcan was more engrossed than she’d ever seen him.

Then it was time for the class Sinead had been most excited about and that she had waited for the longest. Transfiguration was her Thursday class. After some note taking, the students were instructed to turn a beetle into a button. Professor Smith gave Sinead an approving nod when she was the first to have a button, and smiled at her when she departed the room.

Sinead’s first week at Hogwarts flew by so fast that she barely had time to register that it had happened. Freddie expressed the same sentiments Saturday morning as they ate breakfast across from each other, the smells of baked toast, bacon, warm porridge, and pumpkin juice filling their nostrils.

“It feels like we just got here yesterday, doesn’t it? said Freddie, as he drowned his porridge in honey.

Sinead nodded absently as she gazed down the table at Lorcan, who was as usual sitting alone at the end of the table, head bowed over his plate of toast and butter. Besides Freddie, Sinead had not been interacting very much with her classmates either, but there was something about Lorcan that seemed especially off-putting.

“His dad’s a drunk,” said Freddie suddenly as he followed Sinead’s gaze. His words stirred a memory from Diagon Alley.

“His dad?”

Freddie nodded. “My parents used to be friends with Lorcan’s mum, Luna Lovegood, until she and her other son died. Lysander, he was Lorcan’s twin brother.”

“How did they die?”

“I’m actually not sure.” Freddie shrugged. I was really little, only about three or four, and no one really talks about Luna anymore. I think it was some sort of accident, though.”

Sinead looked back to Lorcan, wondering if he could recall the details of his family’s death. When he caught Sinead’s gaze, she could only stare back for a second before turning away from his dark stare. She focused her attention on her porridge. Across from her, Freddie did the same, but he did not stop speaking.

“My mum said his dad got really different afterwards,” Freddie continued, “and that he doesn’t really pay Lorcan much attention anymore.”

“That’s sad,” said Sinead after a moment. She sneaked a glance back towards Lorcan, but he had abandoned his half-finished breakfast and departed the Great Hall. Freddie finished his breakfast at leisure, then informed Sinead that he was heading to the library to finish his History of Magic essay. Sinead agreed to join him, but she first had to make a detour to her dormitory to pick up her books, quill, and parchment. 

The castle was mostly empty, for the majority of students were out on the lawn, enjoying a sun shower. When Sinead left her dormitory, however, books and quill and parchment in hand, she found herself face to face with Claudia Cassidy and three older girls.

“Oh, that’s her!” Claudia smiled, her upturned nose wrinkling as she did so. 

“Really,” said one of the girls. She was the tallest and skinniest, with pasty skin and dark hair streaked purple. The way she spoke indicated a statement, not a question. Sinead stared up at her and her companions, who were all staring down at her.

Sinead put her hands in her pockets and clutched at her robes where no one could see. “Hello,” she said. 

“What’s that?” said one of the other girls, who had hair shorn as short as a boy’s and coloured a rich mahogany brown only a shade darker than Sinead’s own hair. 

“She-she said hello,” said Claudia, her smile faltering slightly.

“Oh, right,” said the brunette. “Hello to you too, _Dursley._ ” 

“Did you know, Dursley, that your father was an absolute arse to your uncle when they were young?” asked the tallest girl. 

Sinead shrugged. She did not. 

The girl who had not yet spoken stepped forward. She was shorter than both of her friends, and curvy, with bouncy blonde curls and big blue eyes. “Well, now you do,” she said. And then she pushed Sinead to the ground. 

Sinead’s possessions spilled; her ink bottle shattered and spattered all over her robes, books, and parchment. Although her heart was beating hard, she did not - could not - say a word. _If I don’t say anything, they’ll just go away._

“Whoops,” laughed the girl who had pushed Sinead. “C’mon, Claudia.” 

For a moment Claudia hesitated, glancing at Sinead as she did so, but in the end she turned and hastily caught up with the three girls, who were strutting down the hallway and away from the dormitory.

Sinead got to her feet and bent down to pick up her belongings, although there was hardly any point. She felt a sting somewhere in her eyes as she thought about the ruined items her parents had spent so much on, but she held back her tears as she always did. 

She was struggling to pick up her books without getting too much ink on her hands when suddenly she heard someone whisper a word and the ink on her book disappeared. She looked up.

“How did you do that?” she asked Lorcan Scamander. 

He shrugged and siphoned the ink off her parchment and her robes. “It’s just a spell,” he said. “I could teach it to you, if you like.”

“You think I’m going to need it?”

Lorcan shrugged again. “It’s a useful spell.” 

Sinead hugged her belongings to her chest. “Maybe. Thank you for helping.” When she turned to walk away, Lorcan spoke.

“You shouldn’t let them get away with that,” said Lorcan quietly. Sinead turned her head. Lorcan was staring at her unblinkingly, his wide eyes poring into her. “Otherwise they’ll keep on doing it.” 

Sinead turned around fully to face Lorcan. “What do you think I should do? Tell a professor?”

Lorcan smiled - a small, toothless smile. “No, don’t do that. That’ll only make it worse.”

“Well then, what?”

“Come with me,” said Lorcan. He began to climb through the portrait, but turned around when he realized Sinead had not moved. “Are you coming?”

“I-” Sinead looked at Lorcan and willed her reluctant feet to move. “Yes.”

She followed the blonde boy into the common room and up to his dormitory. He dug out his trunk from beneath his unmade bed, ruffled around for something, and came up with a small pink bottle. Sinead stared at it silently, waiting for him to explain.

“My dad makes lots of useless potions,” Lorcan began. “But it drives him mad when they go missing, so I steal some from him every once in a while. This one-” he shook the bottle in his hand, “-is a hair removal potion.”

Sinead blinked. “A what?” 

“It gets rid of hair,” said Lorcan. “Here, I’ll show you.” Thinking he was going to use a lock of her own hair, Sinead cringed away, but Lorcan only tugged on a strand of his own silvery hair, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. Carefully, he let a drop from the pink bottle fall about a centimetre from his grip. And all of a sudden Lorcan was left holding a tiny, curly piece of hair that was smaller than a bottle cap and completely separated from his head. 

“Your hair disappeared,” said Sinead, feeling the same rush in her navel that she had gotten when Professor Penrose had first turned the tissue into a lily. 

Lorcan grinned. “Just put it in their hair products.”

“But-but then they’ll be bald.” 

“It’ll grow back.” Lorcan shrugged. 

“But they won’t even know it was me.” Sinead crossed her arms and shrugged back. “What’s the point?”

“The point is they pushed you down and ruined your things,” said Lorcan, leaning closer to Sinead. Instinctively, she backed away, but Lorcan did not advance further. “This is justice. They deserve this and you know it.” 

Sinead blinked for a full second. Then she reached out and took the pink bottle from Lorcan.

***

Sinead was sitting with Freddie in the common room when they heard it: a high-pitched, resounding scream from the fourth year girls’ dormitory. It came again as soon as it stopped, and kept going and going until someone had the sense to go investigate.

That someone was the purple-haired Rebecca Green. Sinead had, after her meeting with the trio, taken it upon herself to learn their names. Rebecca Green dyed her hair a different colour every month. Robin Ross had always kept her hair short like a boy’s. But Marlena Palmer was famous for her thick, shiny blonde curls. It had been Marlena who had pushed Sinead. And so it was that Sinead had sneaked into the fourth year’s dormitory, replaced her anti-frizz serum with Lorcan’s potion, and silently sneaked back to her own bed, taking care to hide the pink bottle. 

So when Marlena Palmer screamed and screamed, all Sinead did was look up and exchange a glance with Lorcan, who was reading a large Charms book by the fire. His expression was as blank as her own was. 

Soon Rebecca returned with Marlena, who was sobbing and shaking and blubbering incoherently. The entire common room gaped when they saw her, and even Sinead had to work to keep her features impassive. It would have been much better if Marlena had been entirely bald; instead, tufts of hair remained above her right ear and at the top of her head, and stringy, pathetic strands dangled from the nape of her neck. 

“Someone can fix this, right?” Rebecca asked desperately to no one in particular. “There’re hair-growing potions and things - spells. A professor can fix this, right?” 

But as Lorcan had told her a few nights back, his father’s potion was impervious to other potions and spells. It played on the same concept as a permanent sticking charm a charm he’d explained to Sinead at great length), only it was a permanent vanishing potion - similar to the one Lorcan had used to clean Sinead’s robes and books after she had been shoved to the ground. 

And with all that in mind, Sinead Dursley looked at Marlena Palmer and smiled.


	9. In Which a Boy Bleeds

The common room was in an uproar. Marlena Palmer continued to wail as her friends attempted to console her, and the rest of Ravenclaw house was chattering, pointing, and laughing. Slowly, Sinead allowed the smile to slide off her face, taking on a surprised and mildly curious expression when Freddie turned to look at her, his blue eyes wide with shock. When he turned away to stare at Marlena once more, Sinead looked at Lorcan. His thumb was playing with the corner of his Charms book, but his eyes were still fixed on Marlena.

Then, the common room door swung open with a bang, silencing the entire room. Professor Penrose stepped in, wrapping her black dressing gown around her, and narrowed her eyes. “What on earth is going on here? Why are you all making such a racket?” she said, her deep voice echoing against the walls. 

Only Marlena’s wail broke through the silence. When Professor Penrose located the source of the noise, she arched a single eyebrow. For a moment she simply stood there, staring, and Sinead was overwhelmed by a thick sense of panic: what if Professor Penrose somehow found out what Sinead had done? What if they sent her back home? Suddenly, Sinead felt stupid. She made her face blank and tried to appear sympathetic, just in case Professor Penrose were to glance her way.

“Ms. Palmer, what happened?” said Professor Penrose quietly.

Wordlessly, Marlena handed her a tiny bottle of anti-frizz serum. Professor Penrose unlocked the cap and sniffed the potion, recoiling quickly. 

“Someone switched it, Professor,” said Robin. “Someone did this on purpose!”

“Yes, I gathered that much, Ms. Ross, thank you,” said Professor Penrose dryly. She turned to the rest of the common room. “Let me make this much clear: I do not tolerate pranks, of any kind. Certainly not pranks of such a juvenile, malicious nature. Fifty points from Ravenclaw.” A collective gasp swept through the room. “And if by tomorrow night the person responsible does not come to my office and reveal him or herself, it will be another fifty. Unless the responsible party would like to save us both time and effort and reveal themselves now?” 

Once again, silence rang in the common room, punctuated only by Marlena’s gasps.

“I thought not.” Professor Penrose pursed her lips and turned to Marlena. “Now, Ms. Palmer, let’s take you to the Potions Master and see if there is something we can do about this.” 

Sinead sunk back into her chair. She had just cost her house fifty points and would cost them fifty more tomorrow, as she had no intention of turning herself in. But, on the other hand, she had gotten away with it. A shiver of thrill went through her. Instinctively, she turned to Lorcan, but he was back to his book.

“That’s not fair,” said Freddie, his arms crossed. “Why take fifty points from the entire house when only one person is responsible?”

“Because whoever it is won’t come forward, and she wants to make sure that person feels responsible,” replied Sinead.

Freddie looked alarmed. “You really think no one will come forward? You think we’ll lose another fifty points?”

Sinead shrugged. “If it were me, I wouldn’t turn myself in.” 

Freddie leaned back into his armchair and sighed.

***

A month later, Ravenclaw House was one hundred points short, and Marlena Palmer was wearing what Sinead heard had been a very expensive wig. Aside from the occasional grumble, Ravenclaw appeared to have forgotten about the entire thing, and Sinead had not fallen into trouble – which was why, when Lorcan approached Sinead after Potions, Sinead hesitated before crossing the distance between them.

Lorcan led her down the corridor and into a small nook in the corner of the hall, tucked behind a suit of armour. She looked at him expectantly.

“How – how have you been?” he said slowly.

“Good.”

“Did you see Marlena’s wig?” He smiled, and Sinead could not help but grin in response. “Anyway, someone made fun of my mother today.” The grin slid off his face as he said this; his entire expression darkened.

“Oh,” said Sinead. She was not really sure what her response should be.

“I’m going to get him back,” said Lorcan, the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was wondering if you’d like to help.”

Sinead looked at her feet. “After Marlena? Ravenclaw will just lose points again.”

“So?”

“So Ravenclaw will lose the House Cup.”

Lorcan snorted. “The House Cup is stupid. I don’t care about the House Cup, and neither should you.” 

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“You’re too smart to care about something so trivial.” 

Sinead blinked, and shifted her books from her right side to her left. “What are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to stuff his pillow with rats during dinner today,” said Lorcan. 

“Won’t the rats just bite through the pillowcase and escape?” 

Lorcan shook his head. “Not until I want them to. They’ll be immobilized with a charm. Once he goes to sleep, I’ll make them move again.” 

Sinead looked around; the hallway was nearly empty, and her watch told her it was lunchtime. Lorcan was staring at her with earnest blue eyes.

“What did he say about your mum?” asked Sinead tentatively.

Lorcan scowled. “He said she died because she was Loony. Do you see why he needs to be punished?” 

Sinead did. And Lorcan had helped her with Marlena, so it was only fair that she help him with this boy. She nodded then, and said, “How could I help you?”

“I just need you to go to the library at dinner, and if anyone asks, which they will, say I was studying Potions with you.” 

“You just want me to lie?” _That’s easy_ , Sinead thought. 

“That’s all.” He smiled, and made to leave, but then turned back. “By the way – you’re not afraid of rats, are you?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

***

That night, Sinead could not sleep, and it had nothing to do with Annabeth’s snores. Lorcan had said that his prank would be pulled off tonight, which mean that sooner or later a scream would come from the second-year boys’ dormitory as sleeping rats came to life, bit through their prison of a pillowcase, and crawled all over Walter Finnigan’s face.

As Sinead fidgeted, her hand knocked over the jug of water on her nightstand. Luckily, it was almost empty, so all it took was the edge of her comforter to wipe the few drops of water off the floor. As she was righting the jug, Sinead heard it: a terrified scream and a loud thump, as though someone had rolled over onto the floor. The screaming would not stop. Soon, Emily, Nina, and Claudia were also awake. 

“What is going on?” murmured Nina, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Sinead threw on her robe and opened the door to her dormitory. She was not the only one: a small crowd had gathered outside, all sleepy and alarmed. Finally, Walter Finnigan’s door shot open, and Walter came tumbling out, several rats stuck to him. A large dampness was spreading between his legs. Countless more rats ran out of the dormitory. Sinead shut the door just in time: the rest of the common room erupted in screams.

“What the heck?” said Nina, now fully awake. By now Annabeth was also awake, wide-eyed and unmoving on her bed.

“Rats,” said Sinead, hoping she appeared just as confused and scared as everyone else even though, as she had told Lorcan, rats had never frightened her very much. “Rats in the common room.”

Claudia jumped on her bed. “What? Rats? Where? Where?” 

“Not here, Claudia, calm down!” said Nina.

The screaming outside continued. _Just how many rats can you fit into a pillowcase?_ thought Sinead, clutching her dressing gown as she heard another thump outside. Just then she heard clawing and squeaking at the door, and backed away until she made contact with her bed.

“Are they at the door? _Are they coming in?_ ” squealed Claudia, still standing on her bed. “I need to get out of here!” She made for the window.

Nina jumped on her and pulled her down. “Are you mental? We must be ten stories up!” 

Annabeth and Emily were now both sitting upright and clutching their wands. Sinead did the same, although she was not entirely sure what she could do against the barrage of rats that now threatened to bring the door down. _What have you done, Lorcan?_ thought Sinead desperately, her heart thudding. 

Just then, a familiar, deep voice thudded, “ _Evanesco_!” The noise was gone. The voice said, “ _Evanesco_!” again and again, until, finally, there was quiet – but it didn’t last for long. 

“I want every Ravenclaw down here, now!” shouted Professor Penrose. Her voice sounded as though she were speaking through a magnifier. Sinead wondered whether she walked around with one, just in case.

She turned to the others to make sure they had heard. Claudia was trembling in Nina’s arms, and Annabeth and Emily still held their wands in tight grips. 

“We’d better go,” said Nina. “Come on, Claudia.” She slowly helped the terrified girl place her feet on the ground, and walked her over to the door. Sinead followed them down the stairs and into the common room, where Professor Penrose stood, one hand on her hip, the other hand running through her tousled dark hair as she tapped her foot incessantly.

Sinead spied Freddie through the crowd; he was rubbing his arms up and down. He made his way to her when he caught sight of her. “Are you okay?” he asked. Sinead thought she should be the one asking him.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Are you?” 

“I don’t like rats,” muttered Freddie, continuing to rub his arms. Sinead looked around. She couldn’t see Lorcan amongst the crowd.

Professor Penrose continued to tap her foot until she made sure everyone was out of bed. Then, she simply stared at them, shaking her head.

“I am _disgusted_ ,” she said icily, cold fury evident in every syllable. “Who did this?” 

“It was him!” said a distressed voice. Professor Morgana turned, and it was then that Sinead saw Walter seated in the armchair behind her, hand bleeding and his pants still wet. Sinead followed his finger and Professor Penrose’s gaze, until she found Lorcan, who appeared dumbfounded. 

“Me?” he said, his voice ringing with confusion. 

“Mr. Scamandar is a first-year,” said Professor Penrose, her eyebrows knotting. “The Geminio curse was required to accomplish this…travesty.”

“He did it! I know he did!” insisted Walter. 

“Why would he?” asked Professor Penrose.

At this Walter hesitated, and Sinead almost smiled. She wondered if Lorcan was laughing on the inside as well. “I…may have said something a bit…insensitive.”

“Such as?” prompted Professor Penrose impatiently. 

“I…I didn’t mean it, I was only joking, but…I may have…I-”

“Mr. Finnegan, I appreciate that you have just been through a traumatic event, but spit it out.”

“I called his mom Loony,” mumbled Walter, looking at his feet. 

“You said she died _because_ she was Loony,” corrected Lorcan. “But I didn’t do it, Professor, I swear!”

“There’s a simple way to eliminate you as a suspect,” she said. “Please hand over your wand.”

Lorcan obliged. Sinead wondered what she could possibly want with his wand. She put the tip of her own wand to the tip of Lorcan’s wand and said, “ _Priori Incantantum_.” Tendrils of smoke puffed out of Lorcan’s wand. Sinead did not understand what was going on, but Professor Penrose seemed to, as she said grimly, “He didn’t do it.” She gave Lorcan his wand back. 

“He could have stolen a wand,” Walter shot back. “He wasn’t at dinner. Nobody saw him.”

Sinead’s heart skipped a beat. This was her cue. Fully aware that all of Ravenclaw House would turn to look at her, Sinead took a breath and said, “He was with me. We were studying in the library.” 

Professor Penrose turned her steely green gaze on Sinead, and Sinead stared back with wide eyes. She only allowed her shoulders to relax when Professor Penrose turned away.

“Well, she’s lying!” shouted Walter.

“Mr. Finnegan, I will not be issuing you a detention for the tactless comments you made regarding Mr. Scamandar’s mother. I fear you’ve been punished enough.” She looked around the common room. “It seems that loss of house points has no effect whatsoever on the person playing these ridiculous pranks. Once again I will give them time to come forward, privately, in my office. If by tomorrow night no one has confessed, I’m afraid I will have to resort to much more serious measures against the entirety of Ravenclaw House. I repeat: I do not tolerate foolish trickery. Mr. Finnegan, Hospital Wing. The rest of you, bed, this instant.” 

And she stood there until every last dormitory door was shut.

***

The next morning, Freddie sought Sinead out at breakfast.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” he said. “Could you?” 

“No,” said Sinead truthfully, but she’d had trouble sleeping only because her dorm mates had stayed up until morning discussing the prank.

“I mean, who would do something like that?” Freddie shuddered. “All those rats. I wonder if Professor Penrose is going to check everyone’s wand like she did Lorcan’s?”

“What do you mean?” said Sinead. She leaned forward as Freddie explained.

“ _Priori Incantantum_. It’s a spell that lets you know what spells a wand has performed since it was made.”

“Oh,” said Sinead. She gazed down at her porridge. Now she really wanted to talk to Lorcan. Luckily, he found her after her first class.

“Thank you,” was his way of greeting, along with a small nudge at her waist. 

“How did you do it?” whispered Sinead. “When Professor Penrose checked your wand-”

Lorcan grinned. “I have a secret. Can I trust you not to tell?”

“I promise.”

“I still have my mother’s wand,” he said. “My dad thought it was destroyed with her in the explosion, but I found it, and I kept it.” 

A delighted laugh escaped Sinead without her realizing. She could not help it; Lorcan’s plan had been brilliant, and now that everything was over, she had to admit she had got a strange sort of thrill from everything that had happened last night. “What do you think Professor Penrose will do?” said Sinead.

Lorcan shrugged. “She can’t punish everyone; the parents would fly in like owls with complaints. Who knows what she’ll do?” 

In the end, Professor Penrose got permission from Professor McGonagall to check the wands of every Ravenclaw student. When the search yielded no results, she was forced to conclude that someone from another house had entered the Ravenclaw tower. 

Sinead was munching on toast when Professor Penrose informed the entire school of what had happened in Ravenclaw tower, which by that morning was all anyone was talking about anyway. She asked for the “perpetrator” to please confess; otherwise, all the houses would lose thirty points. There was a loud groan at this, along with shouts and a few boos, but Professor McGonagall quickly silenced them.

To nobody’s surprise, no student came forward. When the points were taken, Ravenclaw got dark looks from the other three houses, but Sinead paid them no attention. She only looked carefully across the table, where Lorcan was sitting beside Freddie, calmly eating his porridge, and felt her heart skip a beat.


End file.
